A blue grey smoky air rolls over faces
while voices speak in a hush
as the band breathes between songs.
Exhausted heels and tired ties
melt into chairs without music;
uncomfortable, they wait with
anxious fingers tapping and shoes
looking for space.
Slivered clear ice rattles like chains
in glasses of promise,
as a captured crowd holds space
in quiet weakness.
Notes begin their drift
from stage to faces awakening
to the push of life
as the dance floor fills with
themselves.
Roger Singer 